Elevator

Author's Note: Whether or not this is stereotypical, I love it regardless. Any time period you want; as long as their together. Right after they come to Ariadne's place from a party.

Ariadne giggled, teetering precariously as she and Arthur walked through the revolving door leading to her apartment.

"Come on, silly," Arthur laughed, as he gently put his arm around her small waist (thanking the fashion gods for the scanty silk party dress she had on) and guided her through the lobby. By now, they were by the elevators and staircase, shielded from view from the snobby Parisian concierge.

"I'm not drunk, I promise," insisted Ariadne (never mind the ferocious laugh accompanying this).

"You may not be drunk," Arthur replied, "but I think you just may be a little buzzed off the happy juice."

"Oh, lighten up," pouted Ariadne.

"You've been spending too much time around Eames, my dear."

"Hah!"

"It's true. Should I be getting worried?" Arthur teased, trailing a finger around her jaw.

Ariadne shivered slightly. "Not in the least, darling."

"Mmm," said Arthur, staring at Ariadne's lips. He leaned in, as if to kiss her, making Ariadne whimper in anticipation. But just as he was about to touch his lips to hers, just when Ariadne thought she could no longer handle the rapid beating of her heart, he backed away, grinning. "Who says I never have fun?"

Araidne pouted again. "That's not fair."

Arthur shrugged, and began to lead them towards the stairs.

"Umm, Arthur, why the hell aren't we using the elevators?"

"Stairs are good for the constitution."

"Arthur, you do realize I've been wearing four inch heels the entire night at this goddamned party, and we're both a bit tispy!"

"How could I not notice those heels?" Arthur said, looking at her legs quite salaciously. "Do speak for yourself about the tispy part, though. I'm quite capable of getting the both of us to your floor."

Ariande glared at Arthur, but as he was walking towards the staircase, ready to climb all five of the floors, he didn't notice until he realized she wasn't beside them.

As he turned back to find her, he could only see the barest hint of the dress turn the corner. Sighing, he made after her only to find her in the elevator, doors closing. He stuck his hand out, made the doors retreat.

"Please," he pleaded softly. "No elevator. It's only five floors."

He only received a stony glare. He knew that she couldn't very go up by herself—despite her insistence of her sobriety, he was quite sure he couldn't let himself get away with letting her go up to her floor by herself.

So, with extreme reluctance, he jumped into the elevator, and pressed floor five. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and though he'd enjoy more ogling of Ari in her minidress, he closed his eyes. He tried hard not to think of the jolt of the elevator as it first went down, then started upward. He tried not the think of the harsh reality of gravity pulling on his gut. He tried not to think at all—not of the confined space, the nondescript carpet, the gleaming stainless steel covering the sides of the goddamned elevator.

Suddenly, though, he felt Ari's lips at his arm, her hands pulling away his arm from his face, her lips sucking on the bottom of his neck (the highest place she could reach without his cooperation), her body pressed against his.

"Darling...what's wrong?" he heard her whisper.

"The elevator."

"The elevator?"

"Mm."

"Any particular reason?"

A long pause. Finally, "Inception, level 2."

"Ah." She'd heard the story many times as they met up a few weeks after the job and finalized details, and inevitably spoke of their experiences. Hashing out exactly what went right and wrong, how to prevent mistakes later on. "But we aren't in a dream. This is reality."

"It's not that," Arthur replies in a pinched voice. "It's the whole connotation."

Ariadne waited for him to continue.

"It's the connotation of having to be faced with losing you. Do you know how much it upset me to have to worry about how maybe you weren't going to wake up? Get the kick at the right time? How much it would hurt for you to be exploded in an elevator?"

Ariadne heard only their heavy breathing for a long time, until floor four dinged. With the noise, though, she seemed to wake up. Become pulled back from a trance. This wasn't just about elevators. This was about them. How hard they had to try to be together. How their reality, made of unstable, dangerous dreams, always seemed to threaten each other's sanity. Each other's ability to hold on. It didn't help that Arthur was extremely cautious, and Ariadne...extremely not.

"Let me help you," Ariadne whispered. "We can work this through you know. Together."

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know if you can. I live with this every day-" Impatient, Ariadne cut Arthur off. She went on tiptoe, put her hand on the back of Arthur's neck, and pulled downward. She kissed him long and hard and passionate, until they could no longer pull air, and then she went right back to kissing him, trying to kiss away his pain.

"Together," Ariadne heard herself murmur. "Together we'll get through these nightmares. Okay?"

She felt Arthur nod.

Then, suddenly, it seemed like their hands were everywhere, touching every part of bare skin they could find on each other, until they stumbled out of the elevator and into Ari's room...where neither went to sleep before dawn and neither came out of her room until late afternoon.

And though Ariadne always tried to take the stairs from then on, Arthur just couldn't resist elevators anymore...or keep his hands to himself when they took one together.